Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 44: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

194 made good their escape and were running swiftly down the street leading to the open veldt beyond the town. V. TueEy had not gone far when Hardwick, owing to the darkness and his unfamiliarity with the road, fell heavily to the ground. Ginger Dick cursed impatiently as the other rose slowly and seemed to be more intent on brushing the dirt from his clothes than continuing the mad flight. ‘“Didn’t think yer was a bloomin’ dude, Yank. Oo’s goin’ ter care ’ow yer look, heven hif they could see yer, w’ich they can’t. Come hon! Look slippy.” “There’s no hurry, Ginger. And, any- how, we'll make better speed and get far- ther traveling slowly. My wind’s gone.” “Don’t waste hit torking, then. Come hon, I say.” They moved on through the darkness at a more leisurely gait. “This isn’t the way to your hut, is it?” Hardwick asked suddenly. “Naw! Yer don’t fink as I’m such a bleedin’ fool ter go there, do yer?” “Why not?” Ginger Dick snorted in disgust. “ W’y! Heverybody knows where Hi live, hand that ‘Il be the first plice they’ll look for hus. But hus won’t be there. Naw! We're goin’ to leave town fer a while. Hi knows a w’ite trader—an’ ’e’s a w’ite man—’bout fifteen miles hout. We'll make fer ’is plice an’ ’ide hup fer a bit.” “ Tt’s not as serious as all that, surely?” Hardwick expostulated. ‘‘ They’ve tried to frame me and failed — they won’t try it again; they know now that I’m on guard.” “Hand can yer be on guard against hevery bleedin’ man yer meet? Can yer be on guard w’en yer asleep? Say, Yank, show some sense. ’Ere yer’ve gone an’ got hin wrong with Isaacs and Smithers! That’s enough! They’ve got a lot hof hin- fluence in this dorp. An’ yer riled Burke a little wil’ back—an’ ’e’s got a lot more hinfiuence. Listen!” He halted. Men’s angry voices floated down to them on the night’s breeze. Looking back Hard- wick could see the lights of the hotel and ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. other smaller lights which moved. They were hurricane lanterns in the hands of men. “What fools!” Hardwick exclaimed. “To go searching with lanterns for armed men!”’ “This hain’t America, Yank—or Haus- tralia, fer the matter of that. W’en they wants ter harrest yer hout ’ere yer sup- posed to stand still an’ let ’em do hit. We're in Dutch, we are. We’ve defied the majesty of the law. “Now, wile I finks of hit, throw away that blinkin’ diamond.” “ But,” Hardwick expostulated, valuable and—” “Hell!” Ginger Dick spat derisively. “Tt ain’t worth doin’ time fer, is hit? ’Av- ing a diamond like that in yer pocket is worse nor carryin’ about dynamite. An’, suppose yer kept hit? Who could yer sell hit to? Honly to I. D. B. dealers—nobody else ’ud dare ter ’andle hit—and, like as not, they’d split on yer ter the perlice. Throw the bleedin’ thing away.” With a sigh Hardwick obeyed. “That’s better,” Ginger Dick exclaimed in relieved tones. ‘‘ Now come on.” For a moment Hardwick considered the advisability of going back to face the mu- sic; then he thought of the many well-au- thentitated stories he had heard of innocent men who had been sent to the Breakwater under the I. D. B. act, having been framed, and realized that he would be powerless, without friends—always excepting Ginger Dick—and that the cards would be stacked against him. Even if he cleared himself of the charge, which they would surely press, arising out of this present incident, they’d get him eventually. It was so easy to slip a diamond in a man’s pocket and later dis- cover it there. More than one man had had a diamond mailed to him and had been arrested before he had a chance to open the envelope. So Hardwick hesitated no longer, yet was loathe to drag Ginger into his troubles. “'There’s no need for you to leave town, is there?” he asked. ‘“ You’ve done so much for me already that I—’ “T’ve done a bleedin’ sight too much hif you asks me,” the other interrupted irri- CORMICLOO S é q (C@